Slap Forehead Novels & Stories

"I can't let you free" The mafia boss whispered harshly. Then he pulled back and I was freezed in my position. However I managed to recover from my paralyzed state and with enough courage I asked. "What do you want from me?" I asked, my voice low as I gulped. My hazel eyes was briefly locked with his ocean blue eyes. "Oh nothing!! but you saw us killing Ashar." Oh so that guy's name was Ashar.. "I didn't see anybody killing anyone." I lied curtly. "Oh really!" His eye brows lifted up. "then who is this?" He pointed towards the laptop which was placed on the coffee table. I took a step forward towards the table and knelt down to get a clear view. And....... Oh my me!!! I was sooo doomed.. My pathetic life.. I wanna cry so loud... Oh god!! Why?? Why me?? It was me in my black dress standing in front of garage and my face was clearly seen in the screen. Sweat trickled down my forehead as I gulped hard while seeing the laptop screen. It was hard to believe but it was me. I was damn screwed up. THE MAFIA'S CAPTURED SLAVE

After a heart-pounding hunt, the pack gathered under the full moon for a celebration. Because of my contribution, I earned the right to bathe in the Sacred Spring and feast on the Stag King's meat. Just as I was about to take a bite, Emily Carter yanked it from my plate. "This isn't for you!" she snapped. In the pack, our roles were similar, but I outperformed her at every turn. She had been targeting me for months. I ignored her and reached for another piece, sliding it into my mouth. "Are you even listening to me?" she screamed, charging at me. Her hand shot up, ready to slap me. The next second, I grabbed her wrist and tossed her aside. Emily landed on the ground with a growl, her face twisted in fury. "You arrogant little wench! My father is the great Alpha King, Hyde Sullivan! How dare you?" she continued, her voice cracking with rage. "I'm revoking your Sacred Spring privileges!" I pressed a hand to my mouth, letting out a quiet laugh. Hyde was my uncle, and he never had offspring. I was his only successor.

I've waited five years for my mafia fiance, Daniele Moretti, while he keeps pushing our wedding back again and again. I've turned down every man who approaches me and put up with all the snide comments from high society. On the eve of exchanging our marriage alliance contract, thanks to a bet with his lover, Daniele decides it's hilarious to switch the groom's name. He replaces himself with his uncle, Samuele Moretti, a man who is practically on his deathbed. Daniele laughs as he brags to his friends, "Regina's obsessed with me. When she finds out, she'll cry and beg me to change it back." I stand just outside the door and hear every word. On the day of the wedding, I take Samuele's arm—the "sickly wreck" Daniele keeps mocking—and walk him up the aisle. When Daniele finally shows up late with his lover and tries to turn the ceremony into a spectacle, I slap him across the face. Now he's the one who has to call me Aunt Regina.

My sister-in-law, Sabine Vire, deliberately swapped my prenatal medication with abortion pills. As a result, my eight-month-old baby was gone. As I cried until I nearly collapsed from grief, my husband, Cassian Thorne, held me tightly and murmured, "Don’t worry. You’ll have another child." Three months later, I became pregnant again—this time with triplets. Overwhelmed with joy, I was just about to share the wonderful news with Cassian when I overheard a conversation between him and his friends. "All five of you didn’t use protection, right? I want to see how many brats her belly can carry. The wager is $50 million." "I bet three." "I bet one." Cassian burst into laughter. "If we’re betting, then we’re going big. I bet six. Who told her to slap my precious Sabine? If she can pop out a few brats to make Sabine happy, that’s her blessing." Sabine, the very woman who had fed me the abortion pills, was Cassian's beloved.

Two years after the accident, my husband Derek can no longer touch me. His love hasn't changed. But his body has. He says he wants me happy. He just never said happy with someone else. Then his two best friends move in to help. Luca is all sharp suits and sharper smirks. He looks at me like I am already his. Eli is quiet, intense, his touch lingering a heartbeat too long. I swore to honor my vows. But Derek keeps pushing us together. A dinner meant for two becomes four. A goodnight kiss on my forehead from him. Last night, Luca caught me alone in the kitchen. His hand on my waist. His whisper against my ear. He asked if I was shaking from fear or want. I did not push him away. Now my husband has proposed the unthinkable. He wants me to share myself with them. He wants to watch. Three men under one roof. One forbidden wife. And I am terrified of how much I want to say yes. Shared by My Husband's Best Friends is a steamy first-person forbidden romance with a why choose ending. No cheating. My husband asked for it.

His heart was about to burst off its ribcage from the amount of continuous consternation he suffered since the drive to the hospital after he receives the catastrophic news about his wife. Ace Taylor the renowned businessman, world-famous pharmaceutical tycoon, and eminent top textile industrialist of the United States dashed through the entrance of Breach Candy hospital. His eyes searching for the reception flurried as drops of sweat settle down on his forehead even on the biting cold night of mid-December. He slaps the desk on tenterhooks unable to form the right words to gain the attention of the middle-aged lady sitting at the entrance. She raises her head to embrace the attention and her eyes were on stalks to receive the striking Aphrodite who only could be anyone's dream watching on big screens and business magazines standing right in front of her. "My wife...Scarlet Taylor..." "Yes sir..yes sir" the receptionist scurried on her speech and looked through her monitor. "Burns case, room number 13, straight from left Dr. Shahnaaz Hussain is treating her. You can speak..." Ace raced in that direction leaving the receptionist hanging on her words. "Scarlet?" His eyes left red with unshed tears as he shook his wife awake. Scarlet opened her eyes and stared at the man standing in front of her dolorous. "Who are you?"

My boyfriend, Landon Schmidt, has sold his assets just to support me in building my livestreaming career. But when I become a famous streamer, I steal all of his money and dump him right away. Landon slumps near a river and drinks from it while begging for money in the 104 degree weather. He's exposed to the heat for so long that he almost goes into shock. Meanwhile, all I have to do is push the boundaries on camera, and I'll earn millions of dollars' worth of tips. My best friend, Yvette Carter, thinks that it's unfair for Landon to suffer like this. She advises me not to bite the hand that had fed me in the past, only for me to slap her in return. "If you pity him this much, you should pay for all of his expenses, then! Why should I pay for a broke and useless man in the first place?" That night, Yvette exposes the recording of our conversation and takes me to court. Tens of thousands of Internet users flood into my stream instantly just so they can ensure that I get judged for my sins.

 In her first life, she loved him recklessly—five years of marriage, telling everyone she was his fated mate. Five years of waiting behind closed while he spent his sweet time with his mistress resulted in divorce papers, signed with the same steady hand that had once slid a ring onto her finger. As if that wasn't enough her mistress killed after humiliating her in the worst ways possible. She died with his name on her lips… and woke up five years earlier, on the night of their wedding. This time, she refuses to be the obedient wife. This time she will slap the marriage contract on the table. “One year,” she says sweetly. “We remain legally married for one year. No intimacy and no interference in each other’s private lives. After that, we divorce quietly.” He studies her like she’s a stranger wearing his wife's face. Amused, he signs. Then one rain-soaked morning, she wakes up naked in his bed. Again In the dim light, his voice dropped to a whisper. “Forget about the divorce now."

🔥 TRIGGER WARNING: Explicit sexual content ahead. 18+ only. 🔥 “Fuck, this is wrong,” he snarls, sweat dripping from his collar onto my breasts as his thick, veiny cock slams into my soaked pussy, each thrust a wet, filthy slap off the office walls. I clamp down hard, every slick ridge dragging fire through me, and gasp against his stubbled throat, “That’s why it feels so good.” Exiled to a small Italian town after a sex-tape scandal torched her father’s career, Lilith Black was meant to vanish. Instead, she strides into Saint Raphael’s in a white dress and targets the one man she can’t touch. Father Damien Cross is devotion incarnate—until the confessional booth becomes her weapon. She sees the killer beneath the collar and craves him anyway. He knows she’ll ruin him, but the monster inside is already clawing free. When ghosts from his blood-soaked past resurface, Lilith must decide if Damien is worth the inferno. Some temptations are worth burning for. Some sins are too delicious to resist.

The room is dimly lit, the air is filled with the smell of sex and alcohol; the guy laying next to the girl is panting heavily. She on the other hand is laying next to him, all curled up; soft whimpers are coming out of her lips. The guy wraps his muscular arms around her waist and pushes her a little away from him. She opens her eyes halfway through and stares at the guy, his hair sticking to his forehead due to the sweat; his dark brown eyes are closed. His sharp features are glistening, when the little rays of the sun hits his face that is coming in through the window. Forwarding her hand, she caresses his thin lower lip with her index finger and closes her eyes. "Get out." He says in a harsh tone from beside her. Her eyes flutter open completely hearing his harsh words; she always thinks why he acts so badly with her? Retracting her hand back to herself she sits up, her lower belly aches in the bitter sweet pain. A groan comes out of her mouth and her hands go straight to on top of her lower belly, to caress it. His clothes and hers are scattered around on the floor. The entire room is a mess, the bed sheet is all crinkled; pillows are off the bed.